Warrior's Ransom (The First Argentines #2) - Jeff Wheeler Page 0,80

message for me?” He opened his palm.

The herald shook his head no. “These words are from King Estian himself, from his lips to my ears to yours. It grieves me, truly, to bear such evil tidings. Your son Duke Goff of Brythonica died in Chessy two days ago in an accident. He fell from his horse while hunting a white elk and was . . . he was trampled, my lord.”

A sickening feeling shot through Ransom’s heart. The man looked utterly convinced he was speaking the truth. There was no lie in his eyes, and the grief with which he delivered the news seemed genuine. But Ransom couldn’t accept it was an accident.

“My king was so overcome with grief,” said the herald, “that he wept openly before the people. I have never seen him so sorrowful, my lord. Truly. It was an accident. I swear it on the Lady of the Fountain.”

Ransom still didn’t believe it. He shifted his eyes to the king, who looked dumbstruck. Devon the Elder’s hands gripped the armrests of the chair, his knuckles white as bone.

The king found his voice at last. “What . . . pray tell me . . . was he doing in Chessy in the first place?”

“The p-prince . . . my king,” stammered Moquet, “had called for a tournament to welcome the spring. Your son Benedict invited his brother to the tournament. And so he came.”

Ransom glanced at Lady Deborah. Her expression suggested they were thinking along the same lines. Had Benedict caused his own brother’s death, to remove another obstacle to him taking the throne?

Or was this Estian’s ploy?

This bondage presses on me like an ache that will never heal. Emi and I had a long talk this morning. She sees my souring mood, the tears I try to hide. I abhor everything about this tower except my friendship with her. When I think of Atha Kleah, I cannot help but grieve that I may never see it again. Or Connaught or the barrow mounds. What if I never hear the lilting tongue of my true people from any mouth but my own? What if I am cursed to stay here until the end of time? Emi says I should not stay out of loyalty to her. I hold the key to my own prison. All I need do is agree to marry. I told her that my heart belongs to one man, and until he drowns in the Deep Fathoms, it is where it will belong.

I cannot tell Ransom this, for we agreed at the beginning that we would only write as friends and share nothing of our feelings. Feelings that, for me, grow stronger with every letter. He reveals only what he can about the war and a little about himself. I tell him about Legault and the Aos Sí, and what little stories I can of my long, tedious days. And I wait. And wait. And wait.

—Claire de Murrow

Cursed Tower, Kingfountain

CHAPTER TWENTY

The Test of the Heart

The news struck the king like a lance. He slumped down on his throne, head in his hands, and that was enough to dismiss the members of the council. Ransom wandered the palace aimlessly, feeling wretched at the news, convinced that Goff’s death was no accident. Had Alix played a role in the deaths of two of Devon’s sons? He was grateful he’d told the king about her when he did, but that did not lessen the feeling that he had failed to protect the king’s sons. Three heirs to the throne remained: Benedict, Jon-Landon, and now Goff and Constance’s son, who was still just a small child. They’d named him Andrew after the legendary king.

He found himself near the part of the palace with the cistern. The place was pleasant, full of memories that were more so, and no guards blocked his path. He went out there and found the little square empty. The solitude was just what he needed. He paced around the hole leading down into the cistern, wondering what the future would hold. The Elder King was now outnumbered in the coming conflict. James was coming with an army from Dundrennan. Benedict had Estian on his side and enough funds to summon an army of mercenaries to boost his forces from the Vexin. No help was expected from Brythonica; Lady Constance would not want to leave herself vulnerable in Brythonica after her husband’s death. Duke Rainor had been captured, and Westmarch was mostly overrun. In truth, Benedict